


More Than Meets The Eye

by mickeym



Category: Popslash
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Chris, Crossdressing, First Time, Genderbending, Kissing, M/M, Makeup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-08-23
Updated: 2004-08-23
Packaged: 2018-03-06 15:29:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3139403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mickeym/pseuds/mickeym
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>JC opened the door, and if Chris wasn't seeing it with his own eyes, he probably wouldn't have believed it. But-yeah. JC. Eyes made up with mascara and eyeliner, and what looked like blush and lip gloss. Shiny, wet, red gloss that made Chris want to lick JC's lips to see if they tasted as good as they looked.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	More Than Meets The Eye

  
_Put on your make-up boy_  
 _You're your favourite stranger_  
 _And we all like to watch_  
 _So shimmy once and do it again_

A rare Friday night off, and Chris was already restless. Justin and Lynn were gone for the weekend, back up in Memphis visiting family. Chris hadn't seen JC since earlier in the day, and then only briefly, since he was on his way out to cash his paycheck and pick up a few things at the store.  


It was odd to be off and home on a Friday night; usually someone wanted off to go out, or go to a party, or just not be at work, so Chris seldom had any trouble picking up extra shifts, and if he wasn't working, he was singing and dancing his fool ass off. He thought about calling Angelo up, or DeJuan, or hell, anyone who might want to go out and get wasted. Just as rare to have a Friday off was the opportunity to get drunk and wild and not have to get up the next morning for vocal practice or dance rehearsal or anything else.  


God Bless Justin's grandparents for wanting to see their grandson for a few days.  


Chris took the trash out and washed up the dishes left in the sink from breakfast. Halfway through drying he heard the front door open and close, and JC's voice.  


"Chris? You home?"  


"In the kitchen, dude."  


JC had a Wal-Mart bag in his hands when he came through the doorway. "You're doing the dishes? You feeling okay?"  


"I'll have you know I'm the fastest dishwasher in the south." Chris sniffed. "Who do you think took care of the chores and shit when my mom was at work?"  


"Hey, yeah, good point." He fumbled the bag back and forth between his hands and found the floor very interesting, then looked up at Chris again. "You working tonight?"  


Chris shook his head. "Weirdly enough, no. The gods of scheduling decided to be nice for a change. What's up?"  


"Oh-nothing. Just wondered." JC had an odd expression on his face, but since he didn't seem inclined to say anything else, Chris shrugged and let it go. "You gonna be here for dinner?"  


An opportunity for hanging out and bonding with JC. Never something to turn down, since JC was at times the oddest, flakiest person Chris had ever known while at others, the most focused, dedicated person blah blah, yeah. In any case, Chris wanted to get to know him better, if only because they'd been living in the same house for almost two months and he still felt like JC was a stranger.  


"Probably. Wanna get a pizza? I'll even spring for some beer." Chris folded and unfolded the dishtowel and tried to figure out why JC seemed suddenly edgy.  


"Sure, um. Yeah. Pizza sounds good. No beer, though-I. I have plans tonight."  


"Uh, okay." Who turned down free beer? Chris wondered if he should rethink this potential pop star gig. And the exercise in bonding. Maybe he'd call Angelo after all.  


"I'm gonna go shower. Don't get anchovies on the pizza, Chris." The blue plastic bag crinkled in JC's hands as he turned toward the living room.  


"But they're good for you! Calcium, protein, stuff."  


"So are immunizations and visits to the dentist, and I hate both of those," JC called back. Chris grinned and turned back to finish drying the dishes.  


~~~~~

They ate anchovy-free pizza at the kitchen table and debated who was a better reluctant hero: Han Solo or Indiana Jones. Chris voted for Han Solo because hello, he had the coolest ship ever, plus he was snarky and didn't take shit from anyone. JC thought Indiana Jones was better. He was more realistic, with his fear of snakes and wanting to save antiques and shit for the museums where they could be enjoyed by anyone. He also didn't seem as selfish as Han.  


"But man, Han goes back to help Luke blow the Death Star, even after he's got his reward and could just book outta there. That's not being selfish."  


"I think we're gonna have to agree to disagree on this one, dude," JC told Chris as he pulled pepperoni slices off one of the remaining pieces in the pizza box.  


"Stop that." Chris smacked JC's hand, then swiped the pepperoni from him. He ate it obnoxiously, chewing with his mouth open while JC rolled his eyes.  


"You're a pig."  


"Oink."  


JC shook his head, then checked his watch. "Okay, I gotta get moving."  


"Got a hot date tonight, Chasez?"  


"Nah, just going out."  


"Where to?" Chris eyed the two mutilated slices of pizza left in the box and figured what the hell, he'd save them; one of them would it eat in the morning. Probably him. JC seemed fond of coffee and nothing else until he was fully awake-which sometimes took until lunchtime.  


"Eh. Just out." JC helped him throw the garbage away then waved a hand at the sink and the few dishes they'd dirtied. "Leave 'em, and I'll wash up in the morning."  


Chris turned around to ask him again where he was going, but JC was already gone.  


~~~~~

JC'd been in the bathroom for over an hour, and while Chris ordinarily wouldn't have cared, he had to take a piss in a really bad way. He banged on the door and glared at it when it didn't automatically open.  


"What?" JC's voice was muffled through the door.  


"Dude! I gotta use the can. How much longer?"  


"Just hold your horses, I'll be out in a minute."  


"Fine. One minute, and then I'm coming in, regardless." If he wasn't standing up, Chris thought he'd try crossing his legs. But without sitting down to do it, he'd probably fall over. "What the hell are you doing in there, anyway? Full body-wax or some-"  


JC opened the door, and if Chris wasn't seeing it with his own eyes, he probably wouldn't have believed it. But-yeah. JC. Eyes made up with mascara and eyeliner, and what looked like blush and lip gloss. Shiny, wet, red gloss that made Chris want to lick JC's lips to see if they tasted as good as they looked. It was like every daydream he'd ever entertained about JC come to life. JC looked at him for a minute with that odd expression from earlier-almost like he was waiting, gauging Chris's reaction.  


"Uh." Chris struggled for something to say, but the words weren't there. Nothing was, except the visual of JC's eyes-pretty eyes anyway, but with the black lining and accentuating, wow. Incredible eyes and wet, red lips that wanted kissing, or biting. Or maybe both.  


Strictly speaking, Chris liked girls and guys. He was an equal-opportunity ogler: breasts, asses, legs (long legs in short shorts, yow!), necks, faces. Hands were good too, especially on guys - broad palms, long fingers - but harder to ogle surreptitiously. But when he found someone who managed to combine both? Well. That was about perfect, in Chris's opinion.  


Once in a while he was able to find someone; usually when he went to the gay clubs. A pretty boy maybe wearing eyeliner, and a half-shirt or something mesh. Just enough feminine mixed with the masculine to make Chris really sit up and take notice. He'd seen a couple of drag shows, and while they were pretty cool, that wasn't where his interests were. He wanted the makeup - lip gloss, eyeliner - and the clothes, maybe, but he also wanted the ambiguity, the obvious gender-bending. Not someone doing full-out drag, or trying to pass.  


Hell, he liked to play with the gender-bending, and had on occasion worn eyeliner and lip gloss himself.  


It was really just a thing, and not a big thing, at that. But now he was staring at JC and realizing he lived with someone who apparently liked it, too-and that made it suddenly a much bigger thing than it'd been.  
When Chris didn't run away screaming or throw a punch, or react in any other negative way, JC smiled at him, and it wasn't the goofy grin Chris was used to. This was something more. Something...almost seductive. He smiled confidently and Chris felt like he'd passed some kind of test. "Bathroom's all yours, man."  
It took Chris a minute to remember how to make his mouth work, and then he kept it simple. "Thanks."  
He absolutely wasn't going to believe JC brushed against him as they passed.  


~~~~~

"So where're you going tonight, dude?" Chris leaned against the doorframe and peered into JC's room. He was sitting on his bed, tying his shoes. Everything seemed absolutely ordinary, normal, except for the fact that he was sitting there looking prettier than some of the girls Chris had dated in the past.  


Looking kind of like a wet dream come alive, actually.  


JC wasn't what Chris would normally call 'pretty'. He was a good looking guy; Chris prided himself on recognizing and acknowledging the attractive people around him. Especially when they were roommates of a sort. But this. This was like a realization of a very wonderful dream-one he hoped he didn't wake up from any time soon. JC. In make-up. Watching him intently.  


"Told you-out. Around."  


Chris cocked his head. "I'm having trouble believing you're going to the basic neighborhood bar like-" he gestured, "-that."  


JC looked down, then back up, and licked his lips. "What's wrong with this?"  


"Nothing, but it's not your typical clubbing attire."  


"I guess that all depends on where you're clubbing, doesn't it?" JC stood up and Chris took a look at the tight black jeans - really tight, because unless he was really imagining things, there was no way JC had underwear on under those. When he shrugged into a sleeveless mesh shirt Chris had to start thinking about road kill and traffic accidents and ice storms to keep his dick under control. It really wanted to stand up and salute JC.  


"Guess so." Chris watched JC look in the mirror, finger-combing his hair until it lay just so. He squinted at his image and leaned in closer, licking the tip of one finger before touching the lines of makeup. "Lemme go with you."  


That got JC's attention; he turned and looked at Chris. The eyeliner was smudged now, just a bit, and it made JC's eyes look bigger, more vibrant. Chris called up the image of his geometry teacher in high school; the old lady who had warts and a moustache and always smelled faintly of bleach. His hard-on went down, but it was a near thing.  


"I don't think it's your scene, man."  


"How the hell do you know?" Chris scowled.  


"Well I don't, for sure. But it's. Kind of a specialized thing, y'know? Most of us are gonna be like this." JC gestured to himself and Chris raised an eyebrow.  


"So?" Inside he shivered and wondered if he shouldn't just stay home. It was infinitely safer. He and JC didn't need to know these types of things about each other, not really. But still. Pretty boys in makeup. Or maybe more. Chris crossed his arms stubbornly. "I can deal with any kind of scene you can. I wanna go."  


JC pursed his lips and frowned, then shrugged. "Your call, cat. Just, don't say I didn't warn you, okay?"  


"C, I doubt you're gonna show me anything I haven't seen before. Seriously."  


~~~~~

Famous last words.  


Words he was probably going to eat. With relish.  


"I had no idea this place was here," Chris whispered as he and JC paid their entrance cover. The girl...boy?...behind the glass looked a little bored, and wasn't nearly as pretty as JC. Even without makeup. Since it was a no-liquor kind of place, there wasn't any reason to card, except to make sure they were both at least eighteen.  


"Word of mouth only," JC said, looking around. He waved to several people standing in a small group near the dance floor and smiled when they waved in return.  


"How'd you find out about it?" JC eyed him and Chris eyed back. "Seriously."  


"One of the stage riggers on MMC."  


"Always knew that mouse was a pervy little shit."  


JC laughed. "You have no idea, Chris."  


"Oh, I think I'm getting a pretty good one, actually."  


They stepped through the entryway and into the club and the walls seemed to actually vibrate from the music. Chris could feel the bass rumble up through his feet and echo in his bones. As they got further in and his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, Chris could see a dance floor with the requisite disco balls swirling and sparkling, catching the light and throwing it out in white prisms that danced along with the beat.  


It was stuffy and smelled a little stale inside; too many bodies crowded into a too-small space. There was a lingering scent of sweat and cologne, and layered over that was something that smelled like sex, warm and musky. Chris thought maybe he was imagining that simply because of the all the bodies touching and dancing and moving together, but he wasn't sure. Whatever it was, it was a heady scent and it made him ache deep inside, just breathing it in.  


The bodies writhing on the dance floor made Chris think of an orgy set to music. No, there weren't any actually naked people fucking, but the way they were dancing-it was beyond hot. Gyrating, shifting, like liquid rippling back and forth between two points. Everywhere he looked were pretty boys in make-up, and sometimes in drag, or partial drag. An Asian boy who didn't look even as old as JC eyed Chris as they walked past; his eyes were dark with liner and mascara, his lips wet and slick. He licked them and stared at Chris. Through the shimmery see-through shirt he had on Chris could see nipple rings glinting, bits of gold mixing with the black fabric. Another one, just behind the Asian boy - maybe his boyfriend? - taller and blond, lifted one leg and smoothed his stocking, holding Chris's gaze with his while he adjusted the nylon.  


Chris shivered.  


"Want to dance?" JC's voice, loud in his ear, surprised him and Chris jumped. JC patted his shoulder. "Sorry, man, didn't mean to startle you."  


"Do you ever-" he nodded his head toward the blond guy, still watching him. "Y'know, the skirt, or stockings, stuff like that?"  


JC frowned and shrugged. "Sometimes. It's not really my thing as much. It takes more prep, and it's been too hard to coordinate with our schedule. Like, if I have the time, I'm too wiped to want to, y'know? Plus, this place is only open every other weekend. The rest of the time, it's something else." He shrugged again. "Makes it hard to get here very often."  


"Yeah, sounds like." Chris shook his head, trying to clear the image of JC in a skirt and/or stockings, and wasn't very successful.  


"So, you wanna dance? I mean, y'know, if you don't want to-but I'm gonna hit the floor in a few. Or, there's probably a show in one of the back rooms."  


"Show?" Chris led JC back away from the crowd, nearer the wall. He wanted to hear. And see, and smell, and taste. But for now, hear. "What kind of show?"  


"Eh. It changes, but usually at least one drag show going on. Sometimes you get more than just drag queens dancing. Sometimes there's simulated - though it's anyone's guess how simulated versus how real - sex going on. Kinda like a quasi-live sex show." JC looked away from Chris, out toward the crowd. He had a small smile turning the corners of his mouth upward.  


"You're smiling."  


He blinked and looked back at Chris. "Huh?"  


"You ever do one of those shows?"  


"I've watched."  


"Never participated?"  


JC smiled again. "Once. But it wasn't really anything-lotta rubbing against the other guy, mostly. I wasn't dancing, I was watching, and he decided to give me a lap dance. Had this tiny little leather skirt on, and thigh-high stockings, and he sat himself down on my lap-" Chris shivered and hoped JC would go on, but he didn't seem inclined to say anything else. They stood quietly for a minute, the music and crowd loud around them, then JC cocked his head toward the dance floor again. "I'm goin' out. You coming?"  


"In a minute. I'm gonna just watch for now." Did he imagine the disappointment in JC's eyes?  


"Okay, dude. If I lose you, or you lose me, meet by the entrance by midnight, m'kay?"  


"Sure." Maybe he shouldn't stay here; maybe he should go out onto the dance floor with JC. Dance with him, bond a little in a way totally different from what he'd been thinking about earlier.  


That was a fool's dream, though. JC wasn't interested in him. If he was, Chris would've noticed something by now, wouldn't he?  


Questions to ponder another time. He blinked against the smoke filtering over from somewhere nearby and resisted the urge to reach up and rub his eyes. Just before they'd left the house, JC insisted Chris put some eyeliner and gloss on, too, "so you won't stick out like a sore thumb". He licked his lips and tasted the cherry flavor; wondered how long he could kiss anyone before it wore off. Wondered if he could kiss JC, period.  


Chris skirted the edge of the dance floor, watching couples and singles and groups dancing, the music seeming to move their bodies. It was liquid, fluid; the rhythm provided a good staccato background for thrusting hips and pelvises, for backs and shoulders and chests that rolled and shifted and rippled. Some of the guys - and the few girls who were out there - had sprinkled glitter on themselves, their hair, their clothing. It caught the prisms of light and sparkled brilliantly here and there as the individuals moved.  


One guy seemed to be lost in the music, completely one with it. There were other guys dancing around him, but he shone; the sweat beaded on his forehead and slicked his hair back at the nape of his neck. He turned slightly, eyes still closed against the light, seeing things inside his mind no one else could see, and it was JC. JC, running his hands over his chest and up through his hair. It made heat twist in Chris's stomach; a dull warmth that sparked and brightened into a whitehot glow. He wanted to press his lips there where JC's hair was dark and wet and taste the salt.  


He wanted to taste JC.  


Chris closed his eyes, losing himself in sweet-hot-cherry-sweat-slick need and pictured what JC told him earlier, the pretty boy dressed in a short skirt and stockings, rocking on his lap. Pictured it as JC, on him. When he opened his eyes, he was staring straight into JC's, across the dance floor.  


~~~~~

Surprisingly, the bathroom was practically empty. Probably everyone was out on the dance floor or else watching the show JC mentioned.  


Chris splashed some water on his hands and flicked the droplets onto his face and neck. He was hot after the closeness of the crowd, and each drop of water seemed to sizzle before moving over his skin like a liquid trickle of ice. He stared at his reflection in the mirror. This was a monumentally stupid idea, coming here.  
Monumentally stupid, coming with JC.  


Better he'd never known JC did-this. Better he'd never seen him, never imagined tasting the sweat, never imagined it spreading salty and slick over his tongue, with a cherry chaser. He pressed his erection against the sink, the porcelain cool even through denim, and shuddered at the sharp pressure.  


"Chris."  


He didn't turn around, just closed his eyes and pressed against the sink again. "We should go. It's early enough-you can come back after you take me home. Or I can maybe get a cab-"  


"I knew this wasn't a good idea. Not your scene." JC's hands were hot against Chris's shoulders, searing into his skin, his shirt no barrier at all.  


The mirror in front of him reflected two not-quite-boys staring at him when Chris opened his eyes.  


"Oh, Jesus, C. It's not--." He shook his head and closed his eyes again. Let the dull throb of his dick meld with the soft beat thudding through the walls of the bathroom. Let it all bleed into him, mixing into something hot and alive, coiled and holding ready inside him. "This is so totally my scene. This-" he spun around and touched a finger to the corner of one of JC's eyes, then rubbed his thumb across JC's lower lip, "-and this. Totally my thing. Pretty boy doing a total genderfuck. Hottest thing around, man."  


JC opened his mouth and the tip of Chris's thumb slipped inside, just grazing the warm, moist inner lip. If he tasted it now, would it taste like cherry, or like JC?  


"So why're you hiding in here?" The words were soft; they mixed with the rest of the sounds swirling around Chris. He pressed his thumb forward, inward, felt the tip of JC's tongue touch him, slick and oh-so-hot.  


"So I don't do something stupid."  


"Like what?" Another flick of JC's tongue, then the sharp press of teeth against that tiny bit of skin. Chris licked his lips, tasted the cherry and wanted to taste JC.  


"Like this," he whispered, leaning forward. JC's mouth was open, inviting, and Chris licked at it, tracing the fullness of his lower lip. The lip gloss tasted slicksweet, spreading over his tongue. A little further in and Chris tasted JC, warm and wet with a hint of salt; the sticky sweet lip gloss flavor was insubstantial there.  


He cupped JC's head in his hands and delved deeper, tongue slicking around JC's mouth, tasting him completely.  


This time the hardness pressing against him wasn't the sink; it was JC.  


"That wasn't stupid," JC said when they separated. He leaned his forehead against Chris's, and that close Chris could see the blue-gray iris as a thin ring of color around endless, deep black pupil. A black pool he could dive into and get lost in.  


"No? What do you think would be stupid, then?" JC's lips were still wet, still shiny. Chris licked his and tasted cherry and JC and knew he'd never have one without thinking about the other.  


"Not doing it again."  


He cut off anything Chris might've said in reply, mouth hot and wet and so good when it covered Chris's. The sink didn't give Chris anywhere to go so he pressed forward, fingers slipping through silky-soft hair to try and anchor himself. Under the heat and sweat were more subtle scents: aftershave, a hint of Irish Spring soap, the conditioner JC used on his hair.  


They kissed until Chris could feel his pulse throbbing in his lips; his mouth was hot, swollen, hypersensitive. He felt each wisp of air when JC breathed out and welcomed the sharp sting and bittersweet copper taste that filled his mouth when his lip split under JC's bite.  


Chris pulled back and licked his lip, tasting blood and lip gloss. JC's eyes were fever-bright in the dim, uneven light. He swallowed roughly and forced the words up and out; felt them catch once, a hard lump of need stuck in his throat. "D'you fuck on the first date?"  


That got him a hoarse laugh. "Oh, yeah. Do you?"  


"Mmm."  


JC thrust forward, rocking against Chris's hip. "This a date, then?"  


"It's something, anyway." Chris brushed JC's hair back, turning his head with a gentle push. His hair was still dark, wet, and Chris pressed his lips to the spot, tasting sweat and heat and need. It bled through JC's skin in salt droplets and stung Chris's lips and tongue. He licked again, resisting the urge to bite into JC's skin. "Let's go."  


"Home?"  


"Yeah." Beneath his lips JC shivered when Chris scraped his teeth over sensitive skin. "Please."  


JC's eyes disappeared into a huge grin. "Oh, yeah. Wanna hear that again."  


Chris snorted. "Count on it."  


~~~~~

It sort of seemed like a waste to leave when they'd hardly just gotten there, so Chris led JC back out to the dance floor instead, and they lost themselves in the beat and the music.  


JC's jeans were too tight for Chris to shove his hands into the back pockets, so he settled for resting them on JC's hips. There were a couple of guys JC seemed to know pretty well and Chris watched as they danced closer, then practically swallowed his tongue when they took turns leaning in to kiss JC; long, wet, open-mouth kisses that flashed hints of tongue and slick lips. JC laughed and kissed them back, and fuck, that was hot.  


The other two left, danced toward someone else they knew, and JC pulled Chris closer to kiss him again. He tasted different, then; less like himself and more of something Chris couldn't identify.  


"Got more lip gloss?" He shouted over the music.  


"In my right front pocket, man." JC's eyes glinted with heat. "You want it, you find it."  


Chris kissed him hard, more teeth than lips; tasted a tang of blood that could've come from either one of them. It was difficult to wiggle his hand down into JC's pocket and he felt the quiver running through JC from his touch.  


Cherry lip gloss. Slick, sweet, liquid sugar on his lips. Chris smoothed it over JC's mouth then kissed him again, licking and sucking at his lips until they'd given up the pretense of dancing and were standing still, tangled together on the dance floor.  


"Need to leave now," JC panted when they separated to breathe. "Seriously."  


"Yeah." He was reluctant to move but it was too much to stay. Gorgeous boygirls moved all around them, and JC stared at him looking mussed and flushed and ready for more, and Chris was a hair's breadth away from coming in his pants.  


~~~~~

"If I'd had any clue you had such a jones for eyeliner and lip gloss, I'd've put it on sooner, man." JC shifted the Jeep into gear smoothly and gave Chris a sideways smile.  


Chris tried to smile back but he was having trouble moving his attention from the strength in JC's hands and thighs to concentrate on his words. "'S not something I advertise around," he said.  


"What, and you think this is?" JC snorted. "I think it would probably give my parents a heart attack. And Mr. Pearlman-"  


"So doesn't need to know." They weren't moving fast enough. Needed to get home now. Or an hour ago.  


JC laughed. "No shit." He looked over at Chris. "We should go back tomorrow. You'd like the backroom show, I think."  


"Probably too well." Chris wasn't worried about tomorrow. He was focused on now and the immediate future. "You seriously found that place 'cos some pervy old guy on the Mouse Club told you? Took you?"  


"He wasn't a pervy old guy."  


"Hah."  


"Seriously. The dudes kissing me? One of 'em was Andy-the rigger. He's about five years older than you, maybe."  


Whoa, cold water rush over heated skin. Chris shuddered and tried not to think about the fact that he was almost five years older than JC. He's legal, totally legal, it's all good. "Which one was he?"  


"The blond guy. The second one who kissed me."  


"Ever sleep with him?"  


JC turned his head to stare at Chris. "You gonna get all jealous and Neanderthal on me?"  


"Nope. Curious."  


"He blew me once, but the other guy? Is his partner-and not much into threesomes or sharing."  


"How long you been going to this place?"  


How much fucking longer could the drive home take? Chris wanted out of the Jeep; wanted to touch JC again. Preferably when there was no chance of them running off the road when he did.  


"Couple of years. Andy got me a fake ID and him and Sean took me with them." They turned onto their street and Chris nearly sighed with relief. Finally. "I went with him whenever I could; he blew me the third time we went. I had a skirt and stockings on, and he was wild for it. Something about the skirt."  


"I know how that feels," Chris muttered. JC raised an eyebrow and once he had the Jeep parked, turned toward Chris.  


"You like the skirt and all that stuff?"  


"Not-not like full drag." What a weird conversation to have. Chris squirmed. "But it's sexy, y'know, the whole androgynous thing. Boys in skirts and makeup. Or just makeup. Whatever, I'm totally not making any sense any more."  


"No, you are. I got it. Like I said, I don't do that very often, 'cos it takes too long." JC smirked. "If I'm wearing stockings, I shave my legs."  


"Oh, man."  


"You're so easy." JC settled his hand over Chris's crotch and squeezed lightly. "Anyway, I just mainly like this--the makeup thing. But, y'know, I'm flexible. If that's your thing."  


Violent swirls of heat washed through Chris and he trembled. "Not all the time-"  


"No." JC squeezed again, more of a stroking motion than anything. "But sometimes." He leaned in close and whispered, "I could wear a skirt and fuck you, if you wanted."  


Chris closed his eyes and prayed not to come in his pants right then and there. "Shit."  


"Let's go inside, man."  


~~~~~

They made it as far as JC's room, and Chris was honestly surprised they made it that far. He'd been wound up since JC walked out of the bathroom, hours ago; it hadn't gotten any better since then.  


The whole night had been foreplay of a sort. Now he just wanted to feel hot, naked skin against his. Taste the salt and the lingering slickness of cherry lip gloss, and feel JC's body move against his.  


"Off," he muttered, working at the buttons on JC's jeans. "Off, off, off-"  


"You're impatient, man. Don't you know the best things come-" Chris clapped his hand over JC's mouth and the words vibrated against his palm, tickling him.  


"I've been waiting. For hours. Years. Decades." JC raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. The buttons came undone then and oh, fuck. No underwear, just like he'd thought. "JC. Jesus."  


"You too," JC said, raising his arms to skim his shirt up over his head. "Clothes off, dude." Chris's fingers trembled when he reached for the snap on his jeans and he couldn't look away from JC; couldn't look away from the pale, lean torso and muscled arms, from the hard dick already damp at the tip. He wanted to drop to his knees and lick him. JC touched his cheek and Chris focused on him again. " You really want me to fuck you?" The words were low, a little hoarse, and Chris responded to the hunger he heard.  


"Yeah. Please."  


Reality faded out and became a series of start-stop images when JC pressed him back against the bed. Hot skin against hot skin. Slick drops of sweat Chris had to taste; had to chase with his tongue until JC moaned and moved against him. The scratchy sound of paper tearing when JC opened the rubber, and cool, slippery fingers that stroked and rubbed over the tight muscle. Heat and pressure and the slipslide of rubber and lube and more heat and pressure, pushing against and inside him. Chris groaned and shifted and the images came faster, harder, flickering in black and white and red against the backs of his eyelids.  


JC's face, pretty notgirl-notboy, staring down at him while he pressed inside. Thick, hard heat swelling, filling him completely. Chris wrapped his hand around his dick and stroked. He clenched hard around JC's dick; felt the vibrations ripple through him when JC shuddered.  


The strokes became thrusts, hot and fast and so good. Each one made Chris ache deep inside; made his nerves scream fire and ice as lightning trickled through him. The trickle turned into a flood and Chris groaned as he came, thick liquid heat spreading between his fingers in pulses. JC gasped his name and shoved forward, pressing deeper and deeper, fingers tightening on the sheets as he came. Chris strained to feel it; felt the echoes in the throbbing inside him.  


By the time he came back to himself, JC was lying half on, half off him, only partially awake. Chris felt open, slick, with a well-used ache he hadn't felt in a while. He shifted and JC mumbled and clutched at him, spooning closer.  


"That was good."  


"Mmm." Warm lips touched his neck; Chris smiled when JC licked once then kissed him again.  


"Gotta do this again some time," Chris said quietly, groping for the sheets. It seemed chilly but maybe that was the sweat cooling on them. He licked his lips and tasted salt and cherries.  


"Soon as I sleep a couple hours." JC settled his arm across Chris's stomach. It was warm and a little heavy, and he liked it.  


"Couple hours, huh? I could be up for that."  


"Better be." Another warm press of lips and this time JC was smiling; Chris felt it. "I got a little leather mini in the back of my closet."  


Oh, yeah. He'd be up for that. No doubt in his mind.  


~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> _Written for Lily's Cross-Dressing Challenge._


End file.
